


Touch

by Turtlebaby



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, because i am a fluff monster, fluff that turns to porn and back to more fluff, i love feels ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 22:38:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8818912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Turtlebaby/pseuds/Turtlebaby
Summary: A story of simple touches.
Or, Dean doesn't know he's flirting until he does.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for DMPC - posted off my date because I'm a forgetful doof. :)
> 
> Also, I've never written smut for this fandom before. Bear with me here, guys, and while I do love me some concrit - please be nice about it?

It started as most things do.  Simple. Easy. _Touch_.

It happened the first time, that Cas noticed anyway, tho the familiarity in the action suggested to him that maybe he’d been missing something for awhile. Finger ghosted over his as Dean took the paper cup of coffee Castiel offered, lingering maybe just a beat too long.

“The nest has to be in one of these buildings.” Dean was circling an area on a map, purple sharpie oddly out of place in their mismatched collection of pens.  He looked up as Cas sat down and grinned at the cup with a local shop’s logo printed on the side. “For me?” He nodded at the cup.

Holding the cup tight just under the lid, Cas tilted the bottom toward him to take.  And maybe that’s why he noticed, because instead of grabbing at the empty space Dean folded his fingers around Castiel’s before they dipped between them and tugged the cup away. “Thanks, man.” He took a sip and set it aside, not noticing when the air caught in Cas’ lungs was expelled.

Back to the map and he tapped it with a finger, “Wanna go now? Before night falls?”

“Sure.” The one word earned him another grin as Dean got to his feet and grabbed his jacket.

\--

“Dammit, Cas.” Dean huffed as he dropped him unceremoniously on the bed.  “Aren’t you supposed to, like, insta-heal?”

“Working on it.” He grimaced as he struggled with the jacket twisted under him.  “My powers are not 100%”

“I know, I know. Let me see.” Dean knelt before him and shoved the trench coat and suit jacket off his shoulders before he started tugging his shirt from it’s confines of his pants.

Cas felt heat flare across his face. “It’s just a scratch, Dean. It’ll heal.”

“Yeah? A scratch that had you unconscious.  You lost a lot of blood, Cas, angel or not your vessel got bumped, man.” He had systematically worked his way from the bottom button and his fingers grazed the underside of Cas’ jaw as he reached the top. “Just let me take a look, ok?”

There it was again. Touch. Easy. Simple.

Fingers grazed across his belly, pulling his once white undershirt up and over his ribs. Those same fingers pressed at the tender flesh of the admittedly harsh looking gash that caught him at his sternum and ran diagonal almost to his hip.  He could feel it healing from the inside out but he didn’t voice this as Dean’s fingers continued their prodding, instead letting steady hands just touch. Just touch.

Half an hour later and he was sure there wasn’t a mark left under the bandage that Dean had so carefully applied, but he left the gauze in place because the other man had looked so pleased to help.  Relieved, maybe, that there was something he could do. 

Cas had been bandaged by those hands before, a slap of tape and huff instructions to keep it dry, but he’d never had such a gentle press or a warmth that lingered as deft fingers smoothed the edges before tugging his shirt back down.  

Something had changed, what he didn’t know.

\--

It continued like that; brushing shoulders in a hallway wide enough.  Unwarranted grips to his shoulders and arms, a hand that guided from the center of his back like maybe Dean was afraid he’d lose his way somehow.  And Castiel, unaccustomed to such soft touches, found himself craving them.  Found himself at the bunker more often than not, standing too close as Dean cooked or scooting his chair by fractions as they researched, until their elbows rubbed and their knees bumped under the table. And Dean, for all of his protests in the past, didn’t say a word; never mentioning the sudden lack of personal space.  

He took to accepting the offered beer and dropping down to the couch, the two of them falling into silence as the tv played.  It was one of those nights, the distance between the two of them slipping away into nothing and the canned laughter of the television supplemented by Dean’s low chuckles.  Blame the beer Cas had finished off or maybe the warmth of his friend, but when Dean draped his arm across the back of the couch, he didn’t stop himself from sinking closer into the other man.  He didn’t stop his head from dropping to his shoulder.  

And Dean, to his credit, only tensed for a fraction of a second before he relaxed and let his arm slip off the couch and across Cas’ shoulders, heavy and warm.  The show ended and the infomercials came on, a very chipper woman trying to sell a… food processor? Cas wasn't sure, he wasn't really paying attention anyway, caught up completely in the pattern Dean was tracing across his arm.

“Dean?” His voice was rougher than usual.

“Yeah, Cas?” He didn't pull his eyes away from the TV.

“What are we doing?” He regretted the words as soon as they were out, Dean’s hand stilled and he pulled away slightly forcing Cas up from his position reclined against him.

“What?” Dean turned to look at him, something like confusion clouding his eyes. 

Castiel had a brief moment of panic that maybe he was wrong, he wasn't very good at human situations, hadn't been even when he was human. “I mean…” he pulled back a little further, the places they'd been touching feeling somehow colder. “I'm sorry, I believe I misread the situation.” He got to his feet and made to leave.

“Cas, wait.” Dean was up too, and caught him around the bicep as he turned. “You didn't.”

“Didn't?” He parroted back. The grip on his arm tightened and Cas spared it a brief glance before he turned back to Dean, eyebrows raised. “Dean?”

“You didn't misread anything.” Dean took a step closer. “I need, I mean, I want…” he ducked his head and let out a soft chuckle that Cas swore he felt in his own chest.

“What do you want, Dean?”

Another half a step and they were nearly chest to chest, the extra inch Dean had on him forcing Castiel’s chin up to hold his gaze. He swallowed hard as Dean lowered his face that little bit more and his breath ghosted over Cas’ lips as he spoke, voice barely above a whisper. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yeah.” He breathed back and closed the gap, the first press of lips dry, warm, chaste. He pulled back and blinked owlishly as Dean’s eyes flickered from his eyes to his lips and back again.

“ _Fuck_.” Dean growled the word and then hands were hot around his jaw and he was being dragged back in, the press of lips far less chaste this time, lips slick and demanding, a touch of tongue asking entrance and Cas obliged, gasping in Dean’s air at the first slide of their tongues.

Cas hadn’t even been aware they were moving, but the bump of the couch against his knees told him otherwise, not stopping the fall as he pulled Dean down with him, his knees landing on either side of Cas’ thighs. Frantic hands had abandoned their stroke over his stubble to yank at the cloth of his shirt, fighting for flesh.  Cas’ own hands fared much better as Dean was wearing sleep clothes, allowing easy access as he slipped a hand down the back and gripped a handful of ass that caused Dean to grind down against him with a groan.

“Too many damn clothes, Cas.” Dean huffed a laugh where his face was now pressed into Cas’s neck.  

“I agree.” He pushed against Dean and the other man tipped back, his ass to Cas’ thighs.  Cas swatted Dean’s hands away and deftly undid the buttons of his own shirt, shrugging it off his shoulders and dropping it to land somewhere behind the couch.  “Better?”

“Almost.” The growl matched the predatory glint in Dean’s eyes.  Hands slid under Cas’ tshirt and his nailed grazed a path up his ribs as he pushed the shirt up and over Cas’ head. “There.” He leaned back again, a proud look on his face as his eyes traveled from his own hands, working at Cas’ belt, up his bare chest and all the way to the tips of what was, Cas could only imagine, a raging case of bed head.

At that thought, Dean leaned in again forgetting about the belt he’d been fumbling with; his hands sliding into and gripping at the roots of his hair, claiming his lips once more. Cas grunted into the feeling of Dean’s shirt against his chest and pulled back again, slipping hands under the fabric and all but ripping it over his head. He leaned in and caught a nipple between his lips, a satisfied sigh escaping as it tightened under his tongue. 

Dean tugged at his hair again, pulling his back enough to suck at his throat as he ground down hard, his erection a solid press against his own.  They weren’t nearly naked enough, not nearly close enough and Cas growled low as he grabbed at Dean’s hips trying to tug him closer, to increase the pressure or the friction or something. “Dammit, Dean.” He thrust upward in near desperation. “Pants.”

Another low chuckle and Dean was sliding off him, grabbing at his hands and pulling him to his feet.  “My room or yours?”

Cas tilted his head and raised an eyebrow.

“What?  If we’re losing our pants I’d rather do it where Sam isn’t going to come stumbling through.”

Cas laughed as he allowed himself to be tugged into Dean’s room.  Once the door was shut and locked securely behind them he fumbled with his own belt as he kicked off his shoes.  He looked up and met Dean’s gaze, intense and dark, as he shimmied the pants down his legs and stepped out of them.  Dean licked his bottom lip, tucking it between his teeth as his eyes dropped.  Cas could feel his gaze as it roamed down before finding his again. “Now you.” His eyes followed the movement of Dean’s hands as he thumbed his pants down his hips and kicked them off.

“Now I’m ahead.” He grinned, his half erect cock on full display.

Cas had not been prepared, expecting boxers or the like, and could do little more than stare. “Um, commando Dean, really?” 

“Dude. You just had your hands down my pants, you didn’t realize?” Dean cocked an eyebrow and took a step closer. “And you’re usually so observant.”

Cas closed the distance, pushing his own boxers to the floor along the way.  “I was… distracted.”

“Huh.” Dean grinned and slipped his hands around his waist, tugging him closer, the first brush of skin on skin felt like lightening. Touch again, but more, somehow.

“What?” Cas slotted a thigh between Dean’s legs and rocked forward.

“I like that I can… distract you.” The last was murmured hot against his ear and Cas shivered.

“Bed.” Cas caught Dean’s jaw with his lips, fumbling on his backwards walk until the back of his thighs hit the mattress.  He sat with a small oomph and stopped Dean with both hands to his hips as he moved to join him.

“ _ Cas _ .”  His name was punched from Dean as his hand slid from his place at his hip to wrap warm around his cock. 

“Yes, Dean?” he flicked his eyes up as he stroked a few times, tentative and almost gentle in his movement. His lips twitched up into a smile as he took in Dean, head tipped back and lips parted. “Good?”

“Yeah, _yeah_ Cas.” He brought a hand came forward to steady and rested on his shoulder. 

A wave of brave overtook him at the breathlessness of Dean’s tone and he leaned in, sweeping the broad side of his tongue over the underside of Dean’s cock, before wrapping his lips around the tip and sliding down, his fist covering what he mouth couldn’t. The soft gasps and whines Dean was emitting above him were enough to make his own dick twitch against his leg and he pressed a palm against himself to try and relieve some of the pressure. He looked up again to find Dean staring down at him, green eyes blown dark, a dark blush from the roots of his hair and spread down his chest. Cas slurped his way down  and up again once more before popping off with an erotically obscene noise.  He didn’t slow the movements of his hand, even as Dean moved toward him, crowding his space. “Lay down.”

Cas didn’t need to told twice, scooting up on the bed.  Dean followed, nudging him apart at the knees and settling between them.  He rocked forward and their erections slid together, the hard slide of hot skin pulled a groan from Cas’ chest and Dean chuckled at it, pressing lips to his sternum and kissing a hot trail to his nipple.  His mouth travelled back up, sucking a path of bruises up Cas’ neck.  He traced the shell of his ear with his tongue and nipped at the lobe. “Fuck, Dean.” The wrecked sound of Cas’ voice went straight to Dean’s dick and he groaned against Cas’ skin.  

He slid his hand between them and wrapped his fingers around both of their cocks, relishing in the way Cas’ hips stuttered and the way his head fell back, exposing the long line of his throat.  His hand joined Dean’s, completing the circle and tightening the hold and Dean panted against his shoulder. “God, Cas.” 

“Yeah, fuck.” Cas grunted, his breath a burst of heat against Dean’s ear. He used his hold to speed up the pace, the incredible friction nearly too much. “I need you to come for me, Dean.” His words were breathless and low and shot straight to Dean’s dick, he thrust forward into the clench of their hands and sparks shot behind his closed lids. 

“Don’t.. don’t stop.” His orgasm ripped through him, covering the hands that wrapped him and adding a delicious slide that had Cas gasping as he surged toward his own release, Dean’s breathy keens closing the gap. “I want to see you come, Cas.” He nipped at the other man’s jaw and when Cas’ eyes fluttered open, he took in the flushed face of his best friend, green eyes bright, before Dean tipped his head and his words brushed his ear. “C’mon Castiel.”

Maybe it was Dean’s thumb brushing over the head of his cock, maybe it was the feel of Dean settled between his thighs, but Cas was pretty sure it was the rush of his full name hot against his ear that had his toes curling and his orgasm racing through him. “Fuck, Dean,  _ fuck _ .” His hips stuttered and he arched hard, almost bucking Dean off as he came in hot spurts across his belly.

Dean chuckled as he fell limp to the mattress, dropping down beside Cas. “That was…”

Cas turned his head and found Dean closer than he expected, close enough to count freckles and find the flecks of gold in his eyes. “I believe the word you’re looking for is ‘Awesome’.” Dean barked a startled laugh and Cas grinned back at him. 

Dean reached over him and pulled a tissue from the nightstand drawer, doing his best to clean up their combined mess before giving up and chucking the wadded tissue towards the garbage. “A shower is in order, I think.”

“Mhmm.” But Castiel’s eyes were already drooping.

“Cas.” Dean poked him. “Cas, you don’t want to sleep like this.”

“Yes I do.” He turned his face toward Dean and pried an eye open, glaring with a sliver of blue.

“We’re going to wake up stuck together.” Dean couldn’t help it and laid his head against Cas’ chest, relaxing as the angel’s arm wrapped itself around him.. 

“S’okay."

“Cas?”

A groan. “Yes, Dean?”

“Don’t angels, you know, not sleep?”

“Apparently we do, post coitus, anyway.” He was dropping off again.

“Did I break you?” Dean sounded genuinely concerned.

Blue eyes slid open again. “No, Dean.”

“Then why a…”

“Dean?”

“Yeah, Cas?”

“I love you, but you need to shut up.” He tightened his grip on Dean.

“Yeah?” Dean lifted his head and Cas fought back a sigh and he opened his eyes to meet Dean’s.

“Of course, Dean.”

Dean’s smile was nearly blinding as he dropped his head back down. “I love you too, Cas.”

“Can we sleep now?” Cas’ words were very nearly a whisper. 

Dean didn't answer, he just gave in to himself and curled closer to Cas. 

Castiel took that as an answer and gripped him a little tighter before they both fell into the most natural of human behavior; sleep.


End file.
